Donald Trump Can’t Stand That Obama Won A Nobel Peace Prize And He Never Will

Michael Harriot

What do you play?”
If you are a black male on a large, pre­dom­i­nant­ly white col­lege cam­pus, you’ve like­ly answered this ques­tion when some­one — usu­al­ly a white per­son — inno­cent­ly assumed you play a sport that land­ed you at their pres­ti­gious uni­ver­si­ty. As a 16-year-old fresh­man at SEC foot­ball pow­er­house Auburn University, I stood 5’5” and weighed 120 pounds if I was soak­ing wet wear­ing a pair of Timberlands and you also mea­sured my high-top fade. Still, I can’t count the num­ber of times I’ve been asked that ques­tion, and I always wish I could come up with a sharp, wit­ty answer.

One of the least-men­tioned symp­toms of the psy­chosis we call white suprema­cy is the delu­sion of mer­it. Many white peo­ple sub­lim­i­nal­ly believe that there is a sep­a­rate entrance through which black peo­ple can sneak their way onto the grand white stage sim­ply because they are black. If they ever find a black per­son stand­ing shoul­der-to-shoul­der with them, they assume the black per­son got there through affir­ma­tive action, ath­let­ic abil­i­ty or by div­ing through some “minori­ties-only” loop­hole that allows the “under­priv­i­leged” peo­ple with melanin to exist in white spaces. It’s why many white peo­ple still believe that black peo­ple get to go to col­lege for free. It’s also why white peo­ple think affir­ma­tive actions “low­er the stan­dard” so black peo­ple can be admit­ted to a col­lege or get jobs.

It’s also why Barack Obama will always be the “Black President.”
Barack Obama was bet­ter-edu­cat­ed, less scan­dalous and more suc­cess­ful than any pres­i­dent this gen­er­a­tion has seen. Unlike George W. Bush, Obama didn’t lie to get us into war. Unlike Bill Clinton, Obama nev­er faced impeach­ment. He didn’t help hide a guns-for-cocaine plot like George H.W. Bush. And at the end of Obama’s pres­i­den­cy, 138 peo­ple in his admin­is­tra­tion hadn’t been con­vict­ed, indict­ed, or become tar­gets of offi­cial inves­ti­ga­tions for mis­con­duct and/​or crim­i­nal vio­la­tions, like Ronald Reagan. And because the cur­rent com­man­der in chief is a white suprema­cist, tax-evad­ing, broke-ass bitch with delu­sions of grandeur and a ball of laun­dro­mat dry­er lint for a brain, Donald Trump still can’t com­pre­hend how Obama earned a Nobel Peace Prize.
And it tears him apart.
On Monday, dur­ing a Press con­fer­ence dur­ing the U.N. General Assembly, Trump once again whined about Obama’s 2009 Nobel Prize for Peace and how he hasn’t received one yet.
The Washington Post reports:

I think I’m gonna get a Nobel Prize for a lot of things — if they gave it out fair­ly, which they don’t,” Trump said at the U.N. General Assembly in New York, respond­ing to a Pakistani jour­nal­ist who told him he would deserve the award if he could work out the decades-old dis­pute between India and Pakistan over the ter­ri­to­ry of Kashmir.
Trump offered no real evi­dence that the five-per­son Nobel com­mit­tee, which is appoint­ed by the Norwegian par­lia­ment, is actu­al­ly rigged — except that it award­ed Obama, then the pres­i­dent, the prize in 2009.

They gave one to Obama imme­di­ate­ly after his ascent to the pres­i­den­cy, and he had no idea why he got it,” Trump said. “You know what, that was the only thing I agreed with him on.”

Goddamn, this man is thirsty.

In 2018, 18 Republicans nom­i­nat­ed Donald Trump for the pres­ti­gious hon­or because of his efforts to “end the Korean War, denu­clearize the Korean penin­su­la, and bring peace to the region.”

Also, none of that shit hap­pened.

The Korean War isn’t offi­cial­ly over. The Korean penin­su­la still has nukes and there is no peace in the region.

Unless the Nobel Committee intro­duces a new cat­e­go­ry and Trump wins the Nobel Prize for Lying Motherfuckers, he prob­a­bly will always envy Obama’s accom­plish­ment. But Trump’s claims that the Nobel Prize is rigged is typ­i­cal of the psy­chosis that won’t allow him to admit that Obama won more elec­toral votes (both times), had a larg­er inau­gu­ra­tion audi­ence and prob­a­bly has a bigger…ummm…hand size.

Seriously, I was gonna say hand size.

Yes, hands.

Trump’s delu­sion is not atyp­i­cal. He is, after all, just a dumb white man strick­en with the men­tal ill­ness of white­ness. To be fair, being white is not a men­tal dis­or­der. However, white­ness makes one sus­cep­ti­ble to the idea that one has climbed their way to one’s posi­tions, pres­tige and perch atop the social stra­ta while the rest of us were lol­ly­gag­ging on the negro-only esca­la­tor. Because, if they admit­ted that the sys­tem was rigged in their favor, they would also have to acknowl­edge that their unwill­ing­ness to dis­man­tle the sys­tem of white suprema­cy makes them, in some small way, white suprema­cists, too.
All of them.

Just the oth­er day, dur­ing a late-night Walmart search for Hostess choco­late cup­cakes (I don’t eat that shit but, oh, the things we do for love), an elder­ly white man wear­ing a Crimson Tide t‑shirt stopped me and asked where he could find some kind of sea­son­ing. I don’t know why, but even after I told him I didn’t work there, he ram­bled into a long expla­na­tion of how he sea­soned his pork chops. I wish I could remem­ber the par­tic­u­lar herb, but all I could say was: “That’s the only sea­son­ing you use?”

In less than a minute, he revealed that his wife had taught him this sea­son­ing method and he nev­er real­ly cared for it. But after she passed away, he began eat­ing his chops that way. His voice began to crack and, I have no idea why, but this small lit­tle glimpse into his sor­row also made me tear up. For a minute and a half, under the flu­o­res­cent super­store light­ing, he was just an old man telling his sto­ry and I was just a human look­ing for shit­ty, preser­v­a­tive-filled cup­cakes.
Just before I walked away, he joked: “Why are you wear­ing that shirt?”
I looked down and real­ized I was wear­ing a dark blue t‑shirt that said “AuburnAF” writ­ten in bright orange let­ters. From a dis­tance, it was easy to mis­take the tee for a Walmart uni­form, which was prob­a­bly why he stopped me in the first place. I knew he was needling me because, like most of the peo­ple in the area, he was a fan of AU’s archri­val, the University of Alabama. “Oh,” I answered. “That’s where I went to school.” “Really?” he asked. “So, what did you play?
I still don’t have a good answer.